The Sheik's Arranged Marriage by Susan Mallery

name?” Heidi asked, then held up her hand to silence them. “Sorry. Dumb question. Of course I do. But what?”
    “Something fun,” Dora suggested. “Maybe Bambi or Amber.”
    Heidi wrinkled her nose. “No. Those are so not me.” Although the point of the exercise was to be someone other than herself, she thought. “I agree with Fatima . It has to be close. What about…” She thought for a moment, then was rewarded by a flash of divine inspiration.
    “Honey Martin,” she said, and dropped her voice to a sultry tone. “Hi there, Jamal. I’m Honey.”
    Dora didn’t look completely convinced, but she jotted down the name. “Honey Martin it is. You’ll have to think up a history.”
    “I know exactly what it’s going to be,” Heidi said. “My college roommate for all four years was Ellie Calloway. Her family is from
Oklahoma
. They’re in a lot of different businesses, but they started in oil. Ellie has four brothers, one of whom handles the oil side of things. I could be here visiting with him.”
    Fatima pressed her hands together. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. Jamal will never put you together with Honey Martin of Oklahoma.” She leaned over Dora’s shoulder and studied the list. “Except for deciding how the two of you are going to meet, I believe we’ve covered all the important points. So let’s get started.”
    In less than a week, she’d lost the ability to see, walk and speak. Heidi hobbled toward what she thought was the table. Unfortunately her eyes were watering so much that she didn’t notice the pile of cushions on the floor and stumbled into them. Her body weight shifted, her ankles flexed back and forth in a very unnatural way that sent pain shooting up her legs. Her feet went along for the ride, which was too much for the three-inch heels she was wearing. One shoe went east, the other west, and Heidi sprawled down the middle. Fortunately the cushions broke her fall.
    “You need to practice,” Fatima said kindly from her place on the sofa. “The shoes need getting used to.”
    That’s what she’d said about the contact lenses, Heidi thought grimly, blinking away the sensation of having a small car lodged under her eyelid. Soft lenses were supposed to be so easy to wear. So comfortable. Ha!
    She opened her mouth to complain, then closed it. Her throat hurt too much for her to speak. That was the result of trying to talk in a sultry tone that was nothing like her regular voice. She’d strained her throat or her vocal cords or something.
    Heidi sat up and adjusted the skinny strap of the dress she wore. She tried not to notice how the skirt fluttered around her thighs or the fact that a dishcloth had more fabric to it than she had in this entire dress. Did they really expect her to go out in public like this?
    She blinked several more times and actually achieved something close to normal vision. She centered her attention on the queen so that when her contacts slipped again and she could no longer see, she would at least have her head pointed in the right direction.
    “This isn’t going to work,” Heidi said miserably. “I’m not cut out to be a mistress. I hate the clothes, I can’t wear the shoes or the contacts. I won’t know what to say to him or how to act or anything like that.”
    She fingered her shorter, layered hair. That was the only part of her transformation she liked. Even curling it wasn’t too much trouble. And with it all pulled back and up in a bun, no one could tell what she’d done.
    Fatima studied her. “We’ve come so far, Heidi. The hotel room is in place. Dora found out that Jamal is expecting a new Italian sports car on Thursday. We were going to intercept the shipment so that you can pretend it was sent to you by mistake. You have your new clothes, your contacts. Why would you want to stop now?”
    Heidi struggled to her feet, where she maintained a slightly wobbly balance. Mercifully her eyes stayed clear enough for her to navigate her